


Dead Flowers

by warmommy



Category: Fury (2014)
Genre: Emotional Porn, F/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmommy/pseuds/warmommy
Summary: In the sweet haze of smoke and laughter in the dark, he came for you.





	Dead Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find this and a lot more at my tumblr, warmommy.tumblr.com!

In the sweet haze of smoke and laughter in the dark, he came for you. You knew him by the caution of the footfalls that approached your chair from behind, the drunken twist that made his worn boots skid against grit and dust and broken glass. You knew him from the hesitation, the pause, while he loomed so large.

“Hey, Daddy,” Gordo said, stacking the uncomfortable silence with his words, with his acknowledgement of what should not be acknowledged.

You still jumped when Don rested his hand on your shoulder. There was no horse skin glove. It was the weight of his naked palm, how it settled unevenly. His thumb and the heel of his palm touched first, at the top of your clavicle and along the curve of your shoulder. His fingertips curled gently against the space above your collar where your skin was bare, bringing instant chills. Still, he said nothing. Still, he didn’t even show himself to you.

Boyd looked at you, looked at you hard, like he usually did. Warmother. He was looking for any clue, any sign of ‘no’. He always looked for the colour or the shape of that word in your eyes, on your lips, in the language written so clear in your body. “I wish you wouldn’t do it, Don.”

You smiled and stood, wrapping one arm around your intoxicated superior. As if you could possibly support his weight. As if your frame could match up to his. “I’ll get him back okay. He doesn’t need to fall asleep in the gutter again.”

Warmother Swan had his lips pursed, but he let it go when Grady passed him a cigarette.

“Come on, Don.” You nudged him gently and tried to get out of the fire’s light as quickly as you could with him still lumbering. You weren’t even out of earshot when he picked you up from the ground and shoved you into the brick wall. He wanted your knees around his waist, but you’d grown cautious, now. “Don, nobody else can see. It’s bad enough they know.”

“I can’t stay away, you know I can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to. We just need to get inside. Don, come on, I know you aren’t really drunk. I don’t want you to catch heat. I don’t want to be taken off your crew. I’ve always been afraid…” Your breath caught as Don devoured that same patch of skin above your collar. “I’ve always been afraid of that.”

He pushed you even harder into the wall. “ _They’re not taking you from me_.”

“Come on, Don,” you whispered softly to him, edging your fingers into his hair. “Take me to bed.”

He was a sucker for that, and he had you by the hand, leading you to the lodgings in a heartbeat. He picked you up again behind closed doors because he was able and he loved the feeling, how easy it was to lift you and bear your weight in his arms. Don loved the act of laying you down and how you let him, how you looked up in his eyes as he did it.

“You tell me,” he said, out of nowhere, just looking down at you.

Your eyes widened and you placed a hand over your chest. “Tell you what, Don?”

“That they’re not taking you from me.”

“If we’re smart, they won’t. Come here. Come here to me, I want you.” Once he was close enough, you pulled on the discarded grenade pin he had clipped to his jacket’s zipper to begin the ritual of removal. He  _loved_  it. He loved being wanted. Having layer after layer of Wardaddy and Sgt. Collier stripped down to his horrifying scars, all of them, dulled his edges. You sat up to finish the work and kissed his warm, bare shoulder. “I want you.” 

He was a sucker for that, too, not that you wanted to make him one. Don needed to be wanted as much as you wanted to be needed. Usually there was no time, it was quick and over with, but having a bed and nowhere to be made all the difference in the world. 

The rest of his body looked much younger than his face did, except for his back. Finding out his age, really just a few years older than you, had come as such a shock. You thought about that as you kissed his shrapnel-shredded cheek. You were down to his thickly muscled torso, now, and your fingers kissed their way down ridges of muscle that they had been delighted to know for some time. “What are you planning on doing to me tonight?”

“I am going to eat your pussy until you can’t stand it no more, for starters.”

Something like a groan and giggle shivered its way through your chest and throat when Don nipped at your lower belly. 

“Aw, whassa matter?” he asked with your zipper between his teeth, pulling slowly downward. Both hands pushed the front rise apart, and his chin fit in between the newly opened space. He let things be like that, how he did, soft and light, his nose on the tiny satin bow on your underwear before dragging the coarse fabric of your pants down at the knee, then pushing them off entirely. 

He always smiled like this when he snatched the last bit of fabric from you body. Don rested your thighs over his shoulders and hooked his arms around them. He breathed against you when he licked you. He said something that you couldn’t hear, or maybe you were too focused on feeling for the sounds to register as syllables, words. 

The first time, you had been looking up at the clearest sky any of you had seen since Operation Torch began. It was cool in the desert at night, but Don’s mouth, his hands, his shoulders, his arms…all so warm. All those stars were living above you, now, still, and you wondered, if the ceiling became transparent, would you be able to see the Milky Way again, too?

There was no reason to be quiet, so you weren’t. Don’s tongue, fingers, and lips were working turbulent masterpiece that the stars simply could not compete with. How could a person ground so hard as Don do things so reverent and meant entirely for the pleasure of another human being?

Your heart pumped, too, the only other warm, buzzing, feeling part of your body that you were currently aware. This was the dangerous part, because needing to be wanted did not mean that Don wanted to be loved or wanted to love, for that matter. It shook around you in loose tendrils, anyway, and you wanted so badly to touch  _him_. The tips of your fingers brushed his shoulder, and, if you arched your back any more, you wouldn’t be able to touch him at all. 

You cursed as fluently as Don taught you himself, your knees closing around his ears. “Okay, okay, please, mercy. Mercy.”

“Mercy? Mercy, huh?” Don dove to lay down beside you and pulled you on top of himself. “I don’t want a single bit of mercy, honey.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You bit down on his shoulder and wrestled with his belt, quickly moving down to his chest and stomach. There were a lot of thick, dark scars to avoid along the way, but it was a path you could trace blind and drunk, if you needed to. Your sergeant, your partner, he kept his arms flat on the mattress. His forearms curled upward, but he wouldn’t let himself touch you. Not yet. 

You moved back up to his throat, kissing his bellybutton first as your hands met their prize. “You said no mercy?”

“None!” Don shouted to the ceiling, one of his characteristic crazed smiles brightening the entire room. You’d seen it all across the desert, running around artillery pieces, screaming to the sky and the moon that he was coming for them. He did that now and then. Stopped being Wardaddy, just went stark raving mad for a few minutes.

It was fun, with Don. There was no war in the room with you, just hands that grew hotter and hotter, glowing pleasure, and an easiness you couldn’t quite place. Don smiled like he  _never_  did any other time. 


End file.
